


Notable

by TheFandomAlchmeist13 (Delphene_Lukas13)



Category: Original Work
Genre: #relatable, ADHD, Anxiety, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Café, Diary/Journal, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I don't really know where I'm going with this, Library, Rating May Change, Siblings, Stress, Teenagers, Teens, life - Freeform, maybe some fantasy in the future, siblings be like, things may change, will change in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphene_Lukas13/pseuds/TheFandomAlchmeist13
Summary: ((Updates on Mondays and Tuesdays/Is also on Wattpad)) Hi. My name is Emily Piper Debravo. I'm 14 years old, going on 15. And (this is going to sound really cheesy) this is the story of my life. So far.





	1. Rhodophobia

It felt out of place.

I stared at the little pink book. It was one of those things you'd see at Target or at Barnes & Noble. It was pink and fluffy and it came with a matching pen. It all felt so stereotypical. Like one of those sappy chick flicks where there's the pretty dumb blonde, sitting on her bed and doodling hearts in her diary. If Amanda think's that this is a good idea, I'd hate to see a bad one. On the other hand-

"This is a terrible idea!" I screamed, holding my head in my hands. I'm pretty sure my face was flushed in embarrassment. I've never liked the idea of doing something like this.

Ok. That's a partial lie. The thought had crossed my mind once or twice, but I never thought I'd be here. Well, I mean, I kinda knew that it'd be here in my room. I'd be sitting at my dark oak wood desk, soft lilac neon circles that provide a sufficient amount lighting just overhead. It fits with the theme of the rest of my room. The walls are black as are my bed sheets. My blankets, on the other hand, are decorated with purple diamond patterns. On the polished hardwood , under my bed and vanity and desk, are purple rugs that match the lights. Across the ceiling, there are white dangling lights. Most people say that I keep my room too dark.

But I think it's perfect.

The little pink book on my desk clashed with almost everything else in my room. That book was pretty much the exact opposite of everything that was me. And that's what brings me here.

I've been staring at that damned book for about an hour now. I should be doing homework, but I truly feel conflicted. By writing one word, even just opening the book, means something big. It means something big to me, at least.

To me, it means that I've given in. Given to the temptation of writing down everything I do in my everyday life. Expose my hidden thoughts to a place where someone could know them all at a glace. Mostly to give into the fact that there's something wrong with me. If there wasn't anything wrong, I wouldn't have bought the damn thing.

Fact. I didn't buy it. Amanda did. She's the one who thinks something's wrong with me. In all fairness, she's just looking out for me in her twisted, Amanda way. It's just that-

"Ugh, I can't do this~" Translation. I don't want to do this. It's stupid. It's dumb. It's useless. I'm doing it.

I slowly approach my desk, pull out my chair and sit down.

I stare at the book for another five minutes.

"Nope." I say to the book as I get up and walk up the stairs to the living quarters of the house. It's a very simple house, but it's one I can call my own. No one's in the house to witness my inner turmoil. Or to watch me fail at making pasta but that's fine. It was delicious anyway cause it wasn't burnt. Not burnt pasta is good pasta, right? Right.

My parent's aren't Italian. My Aunt is though. Aunt Val is my honorary aunt. She and my mom were practically attached at the hip in high school. Looks like that glue stuck and dried. When I was younger, I thought that she must not be that Italian if she's makes pasta only once a month instead of everyday. At the time, I was five so you can't really blame me too much for that. Well, you can but it wouldn't be right. Blaming an innocent child for something she doesn't know anything about.

But considering I've been making simple spaghetti and cheese since I was 10? You'd think I'd know how to make a decent bowl of pasta.

I quickly jump out of my seat and bolt out of the dining room. In the hallway, past the living room, down the stairs, in my room and halfway done with logging into my laptop. By this time I've completely forgotten about my dinner.

I scan through website after website on tips for making better pasta. After a while, I realize that I'm going to have to write this down eventually. That makes me stop. I turn around and I see something that feels out of place.

That damned pink book.

I decide to hide it under my pillow.

Next I notice is the front door opening and voices flooding through the front door. More specifically drunken laughter. I immediately get a headache and start massaging my temples. It doesn't help.

The laughter sounds father away now.

"God damn it, Kayla." I swear that one day when she walks in the door, I'm walking out. Or, at least, Kayla walking in with an uninvited guest.

Running up the stairs, calling my older sister's name. It's like this every weekend.

Kayla Evangeliene Debravo is a blackout, happy, giggly, seductive drunk. Every Saturday night, it's a new guy. A couple times she's brought girls home. Once she nabbed a gender non-binary. They were nice. I liked them. They weren't drunk. Kayla is not tolerable when drunk. Come to think about it, she's not exactly tolerable when sober either.

"Hey! Kayla~" I scrambled to get in front of her and her guest before they could enter her bedroom. "Whatcha doin'? Isn't it kinda late?"

Kayla stares at me for a second before absolutely glomping me, still attached to her guest. She is a mess.

"Emeee!" She slurred. "Meet *unrecognizable language*! He smeels liike rooosssesss!"

Dear god, not again.

"Yes darling," I say sarcastically "and you smell like tequila."

Trying to steady the (supposed) 19 year old, I smile at the 'guest' who was over staying his visit.

"Thank you, Mr. Roses. But I think I can take it from here." I force a smile that hopefully gets my message across.

Thankfully, it does.

After shoving Ms. Wasted onto her bed, I run to the front door and lock it right as I hear Mr. Roses driving away.

Dragging myself back up the stairs, I put three bottles of water and pain-killers by her bed. I look at her crumpled form and sigh, beginning the nightly routine.

Said routine starts with turning her over onto her stomach. I begin to brush and braid her hair so it'll look reasonable for work tomorrow. Once that's done, I strip her down to her just her...special underwear (she only wears it for work) and proceed to throw an oversized t-shirt on her.

Locking the door behind me, I walk down to the table to finish the cold pasta on the table.


	2. Bibliophilia

"You were right."

"What?" My sister inquired. Kayla was staring at me with her fork still in her mouth. She was shocked. I rarely admit her correctness to anything.

Kayla had barely eaten anything since last night. Judging from how she was still somewhat coherent, she only had around 6 to 8 shots throughout the night. Kayla is not a lightweight. Me on the other hand? How would I know? I'm only 14.

"Emee~" Kayla sang. "What am I right about~?"

This is why I don't tell her if she's ever right about something. She, normally, doesn't have a big ego. Despite that, she loves being flattered.

"Nothing..." Suddenly, the family portrait on the wall became very interesting.

While I was distracted, Kayla reached over the table and poked at my cheek with her fork. It still had food on it. More specifically, Belgium waffles.

"Eww!" I batted at her fork, trying to get it away from my face. "Kayla, that's so gross!"

This fight continued for a bit. She'd jab at me, I'd dodge and try to get the fork away from her. After far too many failed attempts on both sides, we conceived defeat and continued eating as normal.

As normal as the Debravo family gets. My grandma used to, and still does, talk about how our ancestors were warlocks and witches who survived the trials of old. Heh, I'd like to see them survive the trials of today.

"Em? Don't you have work today?" Kayla says calmly, shoving another forkful of eggs in her mouth.

Holy Shit.

~*^*~

"Miss Debravo!" A calm but clear voice called out across the cafe. It was the owner, Evgeniya Baranovskaya. But he usually goes by Ev. I mean, c'mon guys. Evgeni isn't that hard to pronounce. Well, at first it is but that's not the point.

Despite his extremely Russian name, he has none of the major traits that would give him away. Exhibit A, he has no accent.

At all.

Mr. Baranovskaya is 29 and time has been kind to him. In all honesty, he looks 19. Mr. Baranovskaya has ash blonde hair that stops at the base of his neck. His "bangs" are parted on the right side of his head. The bangs on the left side reach the bottom of his chin. On the right, there are two braids going horizontal. They stop at the back of his head and then all of the hair is tied into a low ponytail.

In all honesty, he looks like a professor. I really wouldn't be all that surprised if he was.

He always wears a white dress shirt and black slacks. A brown Victorian-style vest completes the outfit. Mr. Baranovskaya definitely fits in with the theme of the cafe. Mature, yet a tad of childish charm. Definitely handsome, as well. But the first thing that ever drew me to this cafe, were his eyes.

His eyes reminded me of mist over water. Liquid ice, almost. Despite the cold description, his eyes are kind. Whenever I get really riled up, I think of the ice blue color and it brings me into the very cafe where I work.

The cafe reminds me of something out of the German countryside. It was very beautiful and calming. Lots of greenery. The was the outside. The outside was were most people ate the actual meals like breakfast and lunch. People rarely came for dinner. The inside is where I'm mostly stationed.

The library.

To be honest, it looked like you were on the inside of a giant oak. It was a gorgeous dark brown. The light was supplied by the skylight and the light green lanterns, it gave an ethereal feel to the library. There are books covering all four walls and they are of all shapes and sizes. There are plenty of soft cushie chairs to loose yourself in and beanbags. My favorite part is that there are little secret passages that I have created over time. When my first shift of the day is over, I go into one of my hidden rooms and read as much as I can. I'll even write my own books sometimes.

More often than not, I'll overstay my visit. Like now.

"Miss Debravo?"

It had been two hours since I had started my shift. I had spent the better half of it reading this new series by one of my favorite authors.

"The Aura Saga?" Mr. Baranovskaya raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not all that surprised.

"KD Vo's newest and quite possibly greatest." I responded without tearing my gaze from the page in front of me. I loved everything that KD wrote. Considering that I was already on the 3rd chapter of the second book.

"Ya know," I started, finally looking up at my boss. "This might even rival the HP Series."

Mr. Baranovskaya gave me a disbelieving look. I knew why he was giving it to me. I loved that dang series and defended it with a passion. For me to say that there might be something better? Well, the world must be ending.

I could tell there were two holes being burned into the side of my head. Whether or not he was actually angry is up for debate, but I'd rather not find out.

I let out an exasperated sigh, closed my book and slowly crawled out of my hiding place. Mr. Baranovskaya smiled knowingly at me and patted my head in sympathy.

I bat at his hands, sent him a small glare that I didn't really mean and went into the bathroom to fix my uniform.

Sadly, for the employee's of the cafe, we are forced to wear a uniform. For the girls uniform, its a black knee length skirt, 2 in black heels, and then a blouse. All the blouses are required to look the same, but we can have the color of our choosing. Mine is a dark maroon red.

Walking out of the restroom and into the break-room, a fellow co-worker pats me sympathetically on the back.

"Shut up, Lyv." I grumble, not truly upset. Just slightly irritated.

Lyvia Nikolaev is around 17 years old. She has brown hair and hazel eyes. Her blouse is an olive green color.

"He made you stop at the cliffhanger, huh."

"Oh please, Lane." Lyvia laughed. "Just stopping the book makes the part she was at a cliffhanger."

Lane Nikolaev has the same features of his younger sister. Lane is 20 years old and attending the local police academy. Funnily enough, our 'local' academy happens to be the best in the North America. It's better than that one academy in the East Coast.

The two Nikolaev siblings know me the best, second to Kayla. But she's my sister, she gets an excuse.

"To be fair, Mr. Nikolaev, it actually was a cliffhanger." Mr. Baranovskaya walked into the break-room. Causing the three of use to turn around.

"No. Seriously." I stared at the Nikolaevs. "The main characters fell of a cliff and into the pits of the underworld.

They stared back at me and the three of us burst out laughing. Mr. Baranovskaya just looked at us and shook his head.

"I'm glad you are all getting along but-"

We stopped our laughing as best we could and brought our full attention to our boss.

"Miss Nikolaev, I believe table 9 had ordered two iced green teas."

Lyvia briskly walked down to the kitchen.

"Mr Nikolaev, about 6 people are seated at table 2. You're up."

Lane left with a strong 'Yes Sir'.

"And Miss Debravo."

"Yes Sir?" I stepped forwards at full attention. Mentally prepping for the extremely small task he has in mind.

"I'm putting you in charge of the entire second floor of the library. Try not to get pulled into the pages." And with that he walked off and I stood there stunned.

I'm sorry, what?


	3. 7:28am

The second level of the Trinity Cafe belongs to the dedicated readers and the occasional couple who think the upstairs are abandoned (idiots in my opinion).

Upstairs is where I normally go to read, mainly on my break. Actually, that's a lie. During my break, I eat. I read when I'm supposed to be on shift.

I work from 5am to 8:15am. Starting at 8:45am, the older workers will tutor me. Despite our highly advanced police academy, there are no public schools nearby. There is a private but like the police academy, its very highly rated. Not to mention expensive. If my 'teachers' deemed that I did well enough, I was free to do whatever until my next shift starts at around 3:00pm. I don't go home till around 9:23pm. I know. It's a weird time.

For almost all of my shifts, I'm stationed at what we call Check In. For the cafe, its used as the register. For the library, its used as the check out and return. It's also where we take account of our regulars. They get discounts if they've been here often enough and are good costumers.

I've been asked to help out with the occasional costumer upstairs before.

I've never been in charge of the whole floor myself. Dear God, it was terrifying. Nothing I couldn't handle though.

A soft blue light went on above one of the chairs at the southwest bookcases. I walked over to the chair, ready to officially start my shift.

"Good Morning Sir. Is there anything I can do to help you sir?" I smiled down at the middle aged man.

He didn't even look at me.

"Yes, I want to read that new book by KD Vo, if you could. Thanks."

Did he just- Oh my god.

I put on my best smile and gritted my teeth.

"I'm very sorry sir, but that series is not open to the public yet."

Still not looking at me, he had a small smile as he said 'Is that so?' in this voice that reminded me of grinding stones.

Then he started laughing. It was small enough to be noticeable. It started to escalate. It got louder. There were less breaks in between.

"I'm sorry sir, but those books truly aren't available to anyone yet." I had to keep my composure. I kept my smile on my face. "Could you please keep it down, sir? We would prefer it if you didn't disturb the other people on the floor, please. Thank you. Is that all?"

I really didn't want to spend anymore time with this man than I have to. He has this weird air around him. It makes me disturbingly uneasy.

He practically shooed me away and I scurried away as fast as I could without looking like I was terrified. Which I was not.

Going back to my post, I looked up to find that the man had left. I was, to say the least, relieved.

"Hey."

I practically jumped out of my chair upon hearing the sudden voice behind me. At least it wasn't Kayla.

"Lyv? Was that really necessary?" I got up from the floor and corrected the over turned chair.

Lyvia giggled at me for a quick second before patting my head. To which I batted her hands away.

Lyvia Nikolaev is like a sister to me, almost. Half of her is also that one mom that really does care for you, promise! But they end up acting like...well...you might have some idea.

"So, why are you up here?" I ask while organizing a row of books on the east wall.

"Well~" She slurred, putting her arm around my shoulders. She had that stupid grin on again. "I heard some crazy laughter and though there was something fun going on that I was missing out on."

Of course she did.

"Yeah, no. I just had an...interesting costumer up here. I'm pretty sure he's left by now." I told her, coughing down so I can replace the books on the lower shelf.

"Oh?" Lyvia raised an eyebrow. "What'd he want?"

"KD Vo." I replied calmly. It wasn't the first time someone had asked for the author. It really wasn't that uncommons for someone to storm out upon hearing that the book they had wanted

"The Sirens?" Lyvia tried. "Gemms?"

Those were KD's two only and most popular series.  They were the most requested here at Trinity. We had three entire sets of each series because they are checked out so often.

"Believe it or not, the Aura Saga."  I chuckled a little, thinking about the CLIFFHANGER I had been left off at. It was awful. It reminded me of a certain series about Mythological offspring fighting evil mytholoical beings.  I think it was something like Mytho Magic? I don't know. It's been too long.

"Didn't that just get released yesterday? How do so many people know about it already?" Lyv asked me, truly astonished.

"Oh please, Lyv." I shook my head at her. "People have been anticipating this for about a year now. KD worked on this for 2 years."

I'm convinced that Lyv has been living under a rock. She thinks that I'm the one whose been traped in a cave, with nothing but KD Vo books surrounding me. She's not _completely_ wrong.

KD has been writing since I was 7 years old. That's when they published their first book, "Veil" of the Siren Series.

A lot of people get confused whenever I use 'they' or 'them' pronouns for KD. Everyone else uses 'her' and 'she' for KD. Everyone seems to think that KD is a girl. The truth is that no one knows KD's gender. I guess we'll find out one day. But if KD wants to reveal their gender, that's more than ok with their fans. I don't really think that we ('we' being the fanbase) would mind too much if KD turned out to be a boy, girl, trans, queer, fluid, no gender or anything else under the spectrum.

There's another author that reminds me of KD. I forgot their name, I think it starts with a J. The only thing I'm certain of is that they are a girl. They did say once during an interview that they don't really mind if someone saw they as a boy or girl. Only that people see them as a person. Nothing more, nothing less. Until I meet them (and remember their name), I've decided to give them the same curtesy I give KD, that I'm not going to address her as any certain gender unless she says that it's ok to do so.

"I just wish I could remember her dang name!"

"What you whispering about over there?" Lyvia scared me out of my thoughts. I had not realized that I had been standing there, just staring at the east wall for a good minute or so.

After recollecting myself, I quickly finished restocking and walked over to where Lyv had long finished her share.

"Nothing much." I shrugged off her disbelieving look with a follow up question. Well, two.

"Hey Lyv? Why were you sent up here anyway? And what time is it?"

"Thank you for reminding me, Emily." Lyvia turned around to face me with a gentle smile. "You first shift is now over and I will be taking over your lessons for today. Lane will be popping in occasionally, but you know how that goes."


	4. Numerophobia

On the second floor of Trinity, there is a multipurpose room. At the moment, it's my classroom. Emelie attempted to sneak a book (or five) in but I denied her.

"For someone who acts so carefree, you'd think she'd grant my a few liberties." Emelie mutters under her breath. In my peripheral vision, I can see Emelie crossing her arms with this adorable little pout on her face.

"Now now, Emily." I turned around to face my current student. "You're being granted plenty of liberties just by being here."

"But not having a book is torture!~" She softly whined, sitting down at Sir Baranovskaya's desk. His old one that is.

"Oh but you do have a book, faithful pupil of mine." Her head shot up like a rocket and I had to stifle a laugh. "It's called a textbook. And you'll be starting with algebra. Chapter 9.5. Go."

"Yes mother." She whispered, knowing full well that I'd hear her.

"I'm not your mother and I'm not Kayla. What I am is impatient. Don't make me give you equations with fractions, Emily Debravo."

"Yes ma'am." Emelie complied.

I sighed and crouched down to her level, I was only about 5 inches taller than her but still. Sometimes it was like she was only ten years old. She could be so timid at times.

"C'mon Emily. Don't be like this. It's the forth time this month." I rubbed her arms and tried provide at least some form of comfort.

She kept her head bowed and responded with a quiet 'Yes Ma'am.'

"You know what? You've been doing really well with quadratics. In English, we are going to be starting a new book." I wander over to the cabinet on the opposite side of Emelie's desk. I pull out a generally modest sized book. Nevertheless, it's a classic. "We're, you, are going to be reading To Kill A Mockingbird."

She tilted her head to the side, confused.

"Wait..." I stared at her. "You mean this is the ONE book you've never read?!?!"

"Umm...yeah?" Emelie answered.

"Well, this is going to be fun."

~*^*~ TimeskipCauseI'mLazy~*^*~

"Thanks Lyvia!" Emelie calls to me while walking out the door.

"Excuse me Missy." I smirk at her and she stops dead in her tracks. "You're working you're next shift with me and-"

"Mr. Baranovskaya! I need to speak with Emily."


	5. Paranoia (Title May Change)

"I'm very sorry, Miss, but who are you?" Mr. Baranovskaya gently asked.

The small girl who had come in stared at him with a heartbroken gaze. She quickly shook it off and dashed into the kitchen. She was calling in a language I didn't recognize. It sounded so familiar. My brain had gone slightly numb so if I did know it, I wasn't going to be finding out anytime soon.

"Hey Emily." Lane strolled in from the right. "There's a bright blonde mass that waltzed in looking for you."

"Yeah, we found her." I said dryly, rolling my eyes at him.

"More like she found us." Lyvia giggled at my horror struck face as the girl bounded out of the kitchen, her sights locked on me.

I turned to run. My arm was grabbed by a warm hand. I looked up to see Mr. Baranovskaya.

"It's no use running." He whispered to be, moving out of the way at the last moment.

"Oh no!" Lane pressed his hands to his face, a look of mock horror painting his, usually, pretty features. Yes. I did say pretty.

I'm not going to lie. I've never liked to do it, so I'm not going to start now. Lane is very pretty. He could most defiantly pass as a model. When Lane graduates from the academy and if he becomes an agent, his cover story could be that he is a model. Or if the police force doesn't turn out well (which I highly doubt) he will have a career of modeling in his future. So could Lyv. Or Mr. Baranovskaya.

Even this little seven year old who has managed to topple someone who is a whole two and a half heads taller than her.

The little girl quickly gets up and brushes off her dress. The dress was black with red fabric underneath. Small white crystals decorated all over. She was blonde with green eyes and, once again, looked very familiar.

"You're called 'Emily Debravo' here, right?" The girl asked me in a rush. She stared with determination in her eyes.

I slowly stood up, cautiously looking around, seeing if anyone else knew what this was about. They knew just about as much as I did. Maybe less.

"Yes. Speaking of names, what's yours?" I said, speaking with a softness that I reserve for certain situations.

"My name is actually Yuria Altin-Plisetsky, but only call me that in private. My name here is Lily." Yuria spoken with a slight accent. Couldn't quite place my finger on it.

"What do you want with my sister?" I asked the seven-year-old.

"It's not her! Well, it is but it isn't! I- Ugh!" She seemed to have trouble speaking. She was trying to hard.

"Calm down Yu-" I managed to catch myself. "Lily. Now, what about my sister?"

She had stopped hyperventilating and managed even out her breathing. She looked at me with eyes that threatened to water.

"I-I don't know. She just need you back at home, now!"

"How do I know that you're not lying?" I asked mainly out of pure curiosity.

You can't blame me for being slightly skeptical. This child, who is about half my age, comes barging in. Tells me to go back home and help my sister, and somehow knowing that she needs help, but not knowing what kind of help she needs. Tell me that this doesn't sound suspicious.

Yuria looked like she was in pain. Like she was the one who needed help instead of Kayla.

"Please," Yuria begged. "You need to go."

Then she collapsed.

"Lily?" I rushed to the girl and sat on my knees down next to her. I put her head in my lap and gave her a once over.

She looked relatively fine. At first. Her skin began to pale and her face started to flame. She was sporting a high fever and bruises that looked like finger marks were showing up around her neck and on her arms. I started at her for a moment in horror. These injuries were pretty bad. Why would this happen to a little girl like her? Who would do something like this? Was it some random hobo on the street? A pedo creep? Abusive parents? Or-

"Evgeniya, those injuries weren't there when she first came in." Lane spoke softly to the man.

"What?" My head snapped up to look at them.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Baranovskaya looked between all three of us.

"Guys?"

"Evgeniya." Lyvia gave him a stare that was defiantly cause for concern. "Get Emily to Kayla."

"What's wrong with Kayla?"

"No." Mr. Baranovskaya appeared to contemplating for a moment. "Lane, take Emily to Kayla's penthouse. Lyvia-"

I never got to hear the rest.

Next thing I knew was waking up in my room, my lights were lit perfectly (by perfectly I mean dimly) and Kayla was hovering over me with Lane attached to the doorway.

"Thank the gods!" Kayla fell back into her chair in relief.

"Geez Emily, you almost gave your sister a heart attack." Lane chuckled from the entrance to my room.

"Are you ok, Emee?" Kayla asked, putting her hand to my forehead.

I bolted up from my bed, grabbed her arm, turned her around so she was the one on the bed and held her there.

"Am I ok?" I silently hissed at her, more concerned than anything else really. "The better question is are you ok?"

She looked like a momentary deer-in-headlights. It was something so fast that only I could catch.

"Kayla is fine, Emily." Apparently Lane was just as quick as I was, he stepped in the moment I asked my question. "Or at least she will be after you both get some sleep."

It was that exact moment that Lyvia barged in and Mr. Baranovskaya joined Lane in the entrance.

"Hey Kay!" Lyvia practically glomped Kayla, in the process knocking me aside. "I haven't seen you in forever! I'm so glad you're ok!"

They shared this look for awhile before Lyvia gasped and shot up. Lyvia whispered in my ear and I felt my cheeks flame.

"Umm..." I began, standing up.

I must've looked as nervous as I felt. Lyvia gave me this kind smirk that only a certain type of people could pull off. Lyvia being one of them. Kayla, Lane and Mr. Baranovskaya giving me inquisitive looks. Mr. Baranovskaya held something in his eye that I couldn't decipher. I took a deep breath.

"I know that this is going to sound really childish but," I took a tentative glace up at the four adults (well, 'adults') in the room. "Do you think you could help me make a nest?"

Mr. Baranovskaya was the first to react. He pushed off from his place at the door. He stood in front of me and placed a warm hand on my head. I glanced up at him, trying desperately not the lean into the warmth that was spreading throughout my head.

"Of course."

I smiled up at him and at everyone before darting off, only a couple paces ahead of my sister.

The rest of the evening was spent teaching Mr. Baranovskaya and the Nikolaev's how to properly make a nest. Let's just say that there were more than 20 large fluffy and heavy blankets involved.

It was perfect. It was large and fluffy and ginormous and soft and it reached around the entire room and the weight of he blankets were heavenly and we all had made this master piece together and we were all going to sleep in it and- 

"Where are you going?" I think it was Kayla's voice, cause it most certainly wasn't mine. I was buried under, at least, 6 inches worth of blankets.

The blankets we had pilled up reached one foot in height and there wasn't a single bit of floor that wasn't covered. It was a sea of marvelous blankets. Anywho.

"We thought we'd leave you two to your nest." A muffled voice said. Lane, I think.

"Our." My voice was muffled. Everything was muffled under the blankets.

"What was that Em?" That was Lyv.

"OUR nest, you silly ding dong." I didn't remove myself from my current position but I did increase my volume.

"You too, Evgeniya." Nice to know that Kayla and I agreed on this.

Next thing I know, figures are settling in from all around. Kayla was curled up in front of me, albeit facing away from me, and I grabbed onto her from behind. I started to fade into the soft black that was sleep so I couldn't really tell where everyone else was. Someone who smelled of roses and the musk of late autumn.

Then it was warm.


End file.
